Mazenderan Chronicles
by Sarah Crawford
Summary: A story about Erik's years in Persia with an epilogue briefly describing the events in Leroux's novel. Based on Phantom by Susan Kay and my own imagination. On hiatus, awaiting re-write.
1. An Encounter with the Persian

Mazenderan Chronicles

A/N: This is my first real story here. Unfortunately, I do not own Phantom of the Opera. The characters in this story belong to Gaston Leroux with a quite bit of Susan Kay in them and perhaps a little from the musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Summary: A story about Erik's years in Persian with an epilogue briefly describing the events in Leroux's novel. Based on Phantom by Susan Kay and my own crazy imagination, this story will most likely be told from several characters' points of view (starting with Erik). There may be a bit of an Erik/OC relationship, but since I am a devoted E/C fan, it will not last long and will be nothing deeper than the relationship with Giovanni's daughter in Kay's novel. Please read and review.

Part I: Erik

Chapter One

An Encounter with the Persian

The hour was midnight. I had just finished my performance, and the barbaric crowds were finally leaving my tent. True, like most artists, I enjoyed displaying my skills before an audience; however, I always dreaded the close of my exhibitions, for that was the time of the appalling unmasking. If ever I refused to perform this task of my own will, jeering members of the crowd would demand that I remove my mask. Soon others would join in, closing in on me like a pack of angry dogs. At this point, I would be forced to reveal my face or be attacked by a bloodthirsty mob. They were never satisfied to view the tricks of a masked magician. No, they had to see the devil's face which accompanied the angel's voice. And so each night I unveiled my hideous visage before the peering eyes of those foul spectators. Every evening I would assume the pretence of cold statue that feels nothing, as the crowds studied my face with a gruesome mixture of horror and delight.

At the time in which this narrative begins, the fair had been in Nijni-Novgrod for over two weeks. I was young, restless, and quite ready to move on, although I suppose that it did not matter much. The crowds were the same in any city. They were all perverse and villainous simpletons who could not wait to catch a glimpse of my face. I offered them a display of wonders that would completely baffle even the most intellectual of observers; yet the masses came to view something more extraordinary than an artist's tricks. After all, where else could one observe "The Living Corpse"? Since my return to the fairs, my act had become much more than a death-like, inhuman creature in an upright coffin. Now I was allowed a tent of my own, provided with whatever comforts I could wish for. I was a respected and feared performer and treated as such. All other tents seemed to clear at the hour of my performance, and I was surrounded by a gawking throng. They watched my entertainment with delighting amazement, but still I knew the reason that they had come. To them, I was purely a freak of nature, a mere animal if you will. Nothing brought the multitudes as much macabre satisfaction as looking upon the repulsively disfigured skull that served as my head.

This particular night, I was extremely worn out. Once my show was finished, all I wished to do was lie down. When my tent had finally been cleared, I wearily blew out all of the candles, put out the oil lamps, and then removed my mask. Then I retired to my cot in a state of utter fatigue, not bothering to change into more comfortable attire. I had nearly drifted off when I heard a strange voice penetrating the solitude of my dwelling.

"Excuse me, Sir, may I have a word with you?" the man's voice said.

With one fluid motion, I had the mask in place and was on my feet, my Punjab lasso grasped tightly in one hand. I was prepared to strike. Should this strange man pose any threat to me, I certainly would not think twice about killing him. A thousand thoughts flashed through my mind in rapid succession. Who was this man and where had he come from? More importantly, what was the purpose of his ill-timed visit? Lastly, what weapon was he hiding beneath that flowing robe of his? In the darkness, I had the advantage; my glowing yellow eyes could watch his every move, but to the stranger I was merely a dark shadow.

I made a quick mental note of his features. The man was only a few inches shorter than I, with dark hair and a swarthy completion. He wore an astrakhan hat. I immediately recognized his robes to be Persian. His stance spoke of nobility, and yet there was something in his countenance that told me that this man felt lost and entirely out of place.

"I am sorry, Sir," I replied rather sharply, "but the performance is over. If you come back tomorrow evening, you may be able to view my act. I'm afraid that I do not give private performances. If I were to stoop to such an extravagant kindness, I would have no time to call my own."

The man only stared at me for a moment, his eyes round with disbelief and his mouth gaping in a rather ill-mannered fashion. When he recovered from whatever it was that had so astounded him, he laughed nervously.

"Pardon my intrusion, but I have not come to see the show." His Russian carried a distinct Persian accent, confirming my speculation. "I am Nadir Khan, the Daroga of Mazenderan. The king of all kings has sent me to implore your presents in his court." He introduced himself with the stiff bow, typical to that region of the world.

I glared at him in contempt, viewing his invitation, or rather his king's command, as more of an insult to my intelligence than a complement to my skills.

"And the Shah of Persia wishes for me to come and be his play thing? What makes you think, Daroga, that I will obey the orders of a ruler that is not my own, or any monarch for that matter?" The defiant tone of my voice evidently conveyed precisely what I desired; that I was not one to be ordered by the whims of any man be he peasant, detective, or king.

He starred at my dark form for a moment, entirely at a loss for words. By this time, I had deduced that this man had no intention of attacking me. Far from it; he was gaping at me in unreserved perplexity and bafflement. I took a seat on the edge of my cot, nonchalantly crossing my legs. At that time I did him the courtesy of lighting a single candle, which I placed on the small table beside my bed. As I completed this action, my eyes never left the Daroga. He nodded his thanks for the light. I realize that the Persian tried not to stare, but most people find it impossible not to gawk at my mask.

"You are impudent, aren't you?" I said with a short laugh. "Answer me, Persian. Do you really think that I come and go on the whims of every king who asks for me? No. I am hardly willing to stoop so low. That is what you are asking of me?"

"I would not quite put it in those words," he said at last in reply to my cutting remarks. This time, his phrases came out in a rather apprehensive tone. His voice quavered, and he even stumbled over his Russian a bit. "Your fame has been spread throughout the world. Naturally, it has reached our land. Everyone in Mazenderan is speaking of a great masked magician who works wonders beyond those known to any man. The Sultana, the younger sister of our great Shah, whishes you to take the position of her personal entertainer as our new court magician."

I raised one eyebrow skeptically, although my mask hid this gesture of incredulity from his sight. My arms instinctively crossed in front of my chest, and my head tilted to the side as I pondered the Daroga's words. So, this man attempted to flatter me. I chose to return his praise with an expression of indifference. His anxiety seemed to grow when I made no sign of falling prey to his flattery. I could not help but chuckle to myself as I observed his trepidation, and my laugh only severed to send then Persian trembling from head to toe.

"In return for your proficiencies," he went on, this time slipping carelessly into his native tongue, "you will receive great riches, a most comfortable living space in the royal palace, and…" he added with exaggerate drama, "power."

Riches hardly mattered to me. Although I appreciated the finer things of life, I had no one but myself to lavish them upon. However, that last word stuck out in my mind. Power. Yes, power was definitely something that appealed to me. In my life it had become a satisfactory replacement for love, or so I had thought.

"What kind of power?" I asked, drumming the tips of my elongated fingers together. At this time, I had also switched over to speaking in the language of his homeland.

The Persian looked relieved that he had finally drawn me into this idea of accompanying him back to his native land, and it seemed perfectly natural to him that I should speak his language with such fluency. He spread his hands in a broad gesture. "As long as you satisfy the Shah and the Sultana, you may do as you please. You will have servants and possibly others placed under your command. If you find favor in the sight of our rulers, you may possess anything that takes your fancy. In time, I have no doubt that your word will be law."

I allowed my eyes to show that his answer had pleased me. The favor of the Persian king and his sister would surely be temporary, but while it lasted… Perhaps I should consider his proposal. "You pose a tempting offer, Daroga," I spoke, watching him carefully.

After a moment of silent contemplation, I stood and moved to the pot of tea that I had prepared before my performance. The liquid inside was still tolerably warm. I poured myself a glass, adding lemon and sugar in the traditional Russian manner, all the while keeping a wary eye on the Daroga. As I completed this simple task, I noticed a look of alarm coming over my visitor's countenance. The man was literally trembling.

"Are you suffering from a chill, Daroga?" I asked. "You may have some tea if you like. It is certain to warm you up."

"No thank you. I am feeling quite well," he responded courteously, still not losing his appearance of severe unease. After the passing of a few seconds, he spoke again. "Forgive me for asking," the man said fearfully, "but are you left-handed?"

I gave a short, biting laugh at his anomalous question. "My, but you are an insolent fool, Daroga," I replied abrasively. "Yes, as a rule I tend toward performing tasks with my left hand, although I pride myself in being ambidextrous. Is there something wrong? I must say, you look as though you have seen the devil himself."

He shook his head and muttered a brief supplication to his god beneath his breath.

"I am truly sorry," he said, turning his weary attention toward me. "It simply startled me to notice your use of the left hand. You are correct in your assessment of my fear. Please, I mean no offence. You see, Sir, my people believe the devil to be left-handed and by Allah-"

"Say no more, Daroga. You are forgiven," I said, waving away his attempted apology. "I am quite accustomed to evoking fear in people. Perhaps I shall consider accompanying you to your country. I find the life that I am leading rather dull at the moment. A change of scenery would be most welcome."

I then returned to my cot, took a seat, and began sipping my tea in aloof contemplation. The soothing liquid eased my frayed nerves as I considered the proposition that this foreigner had placed before me. Travel… riches… power… It all sounded most alluring. I chose to remain silent long after my decision was made, loving the suspense that I held him in. When at last my cup was empty, I rose and placed it back onto the table beside the teapot. Then, I slowly returned to my seat, reveling in the power with which I held this stranger captive. Once again, I studied him. The man seemed to be honest enough.

"I accept," I finally replied. "When shall we leave?" Again I saw a wave of relief wash over him.

"Whenever it is convenient for you," the Persian answered. "I have made arrangements for our ship to depart twenty four days from this evening at six. We will need to leave tomorrow morning to reach the port on time; however, I can easily make other plans if that does not suit you."

"A mind-reader, eh?" I asked, letting out an incredulous chuckle. Somehow, this man had assumed that I would accompany him to his homeland, and that I would do so instantly at his bidding. I strived to make myself completely unpredictable and his presumption of my acquiescence displeased me gravely. "You are an imprudent dog, Persian," I challenged. "Making previsions as if I would follow you without the slightest explanation! Now I think that you may be forcing me to change my mind. What on earth made you think that I would be willing to go to your country? The crowds pay well enough in Russia. You had better be on your way now."

A panicked look came over his features, and I knew that I had this man right where I wanted him. "But you just told me that-"

I let out an aggravated sigh. "You needn't remind me of my own words. I will go with you, Daroga. I am a man of my word… when I so choose. Never fear. And yes," I said with a slight nod of my head, "you may return for me at ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Very well," he assented with another look of relief. He then bowed wordlessly and made his way for the exit of my dwelling.

When the man had left my tent, I blew out the single candle, removed my mask, and lay down once more. A thousand thoughts now clouded my mind, visions of the strange, new country to which I would soon be bond. However, after some time I was able to push the thoughts aside and drift off to sleep.


	2. The Journey to Mazenderan Begins

A/N: Disclaimer- Sadly, I still own nothing. : ) Thank you for the wonderful reviews. Please keep them coming. Star Sheep, sorry if my story's a little confusing. I will try not to make it confuse you. I will most likely explain stuff later on anyway. To anyone else who finds things confusing, please let me know _what_ confuses you. I will try to clear it all up in later chapters. I will most likely have some sort of a flash-back into Erik's past, which in my story is similar, but not exactly the same as in Susan Kay's wonderful novel. ShadetheSanders: I'm glad you like the beginning. I hope my story will be mostly original, but it is based on that portion of Kay's book. As for the "OC," I will do my best to make her unlike the typical "other woman." I do hate Mary-Sues with a passion, and I would not be happy if I were to create one. Who knows, she may not even show up in the story, or only show up briefly.

Chapter Two

The Journey to Mazenderan Begins

The following morning, I was roused by the sound of some of the other performers packing up their tents. The fair was moving on once again, and so was I; however, this time we were headed in two separate directions, they to Moscow, and I to a large province in Persia known as Mazenderan. Contrary to what might be expected, I had known that they would be moving on when I spoke with the Daroga the night before. Should he have taken my advice to come back for the show the following night, I would have been miles away, and he most likely would have been forced to spend many more long months searching for me. That supposition was of little matter now, for true to my word, I would soon be on my way to his homeland.

With a yawn, I reached for the little gold pocket watch that never left my sight. The object was the sole position in my ownership that had once belonged to my father. I reached out for it without so much as bothering to open my eyes, groping drowsily over the small table beside my bed. At last, my hand came to rest on the object. Slowly, my eyelids drifted open and I glanced blearily at the timepiece. Nine twenty-seven. I sat up with a start. That could not possibly be right. I had overslept. That blasted Persian would be here for me in thirty-three minutes!

In a short time, I had dressed and had begun to gather my belongings. A rustling sound at my back brought my hand swiftly to the end table. In a flowing motion that came second nature to me, I fastened my mask securely in place just in time for the Daroga's entrance. I breathed a sigh of relief, and then turned a cold stare on my visitor. The man had stepped into my tent without any warning. He had nearly seen my face.

"Curse you, Daroga," I murmured, as I moved toward his approaching form, halting his endeavor to speak with a gesture of foreboding. "Tell me, Monsieur, do you always burst in like this, unheralded, without the decency to knock or speak a word of warning? It is quite rude you know."

To my great satisfaction, his eyes widened with fear and he gave a nod of apology. Then the fool Persian began to mumble his apology. "I am gravely sorry," he offered, speaking again in the language of his homeland. "I did not mean to offend you in the slightest. When you told me to arrive at ten I assumed that I would be expected. I only…"

"Do not babble on so, Daroga," I said with a dismissing wave of my hand.

"Forgive me, Sir. If there is anyway that I may be of assistance, do not hesitate to ask. I am at your service, Mister…" He paused and then gave me a questioning gesture. "I do not believe I caught your name, Sir."

"Garron," I filled in for him. "Erik Garron."

"Well Monsieur Garron, if you will allow me, I will assist you with your luggage. I trust that you slept well. We have a long trip ahead of us."

I could not help but laugh at his attempts. As if his Russian had not been bad enough, the Daroga's French pronunciation was atrocious. The man seemed shocked at first and then perhaps a bit calmed at my change of moods, and this time he seemed almost relieved to hear my laughter. It felt a bit odd for me, as laughing is something I rarely do, but, in the moments that followed, I found myself strangely relaxed in the presence of this stranger. I did not trust him. That fact I made evident. I could never learn to trust any human—I refer to them as such, for I have long since abandoned all association of myself with that vile race. At least not in so short a time. However, I attempted to appear as amiable as possible. After all, we two had a tedious journey before us and I saw no reason in making an enemy of one who could be of some use to me, be it as a companion or simply a tool to gain prestige.

"It is Garron," I corrected him. "But perhaps you had better simply address me as Erik. And yes, I slept quite well, thank you."

"And you may call me Nadir," he returned the favor, his lips turning upward ever so slightly. "Shall we be on our way then?"

"Yes, of course," I replied with a nod.

With no further words I collected my bag along with the case that held my cherished violin, and we began our journey. The bag containing the few articles of clothing that I possessed, I entrusted to the Daroga, but I carried the small satchel that held all of my most treasured belongings. Among my handful of possessions was my drawing pencils, a pen, the portfolio that held all of my previous compositions, as well as a plethora of sketches—some architectural and some merely aesthetic—done in my spare time. Little else filled the bag, aside from various props for my performances. Outside, we met with the Daroga's servant, Darius. He too offered to help me with my luggage, but I assured him that I wished to carry it myself.

The Daroga, Darius, and I traveled on horseback for the first part of the journey. I rode Moon-dancer, the trusty black stallion, which I acquired at the close of my years with the gypsies. To be perfectly honest, I stole him when I left them, but there was not reason to tell my traveling companion that fact. His mount was a grey, obviously Arabic, and of excellent breeding. Even Daruis rode a fine creature. No doubt the Daroga spent a great deal of money to obtain these horses. He seemed like an honest man, and I was certain that he would never stoop to thievery as I had.

The trip was long and unbearably dull. From time to time, I would disappear to explore along the way. This always terrified the Daroga. The poor man never knew where to find me. When at last I would return to the main road—sometimes after several hours of absence— he would look exceedingly relieved.

"Where were you?" he'd always ask in a tone much like that of a worried father. "Why did you go off and leave us like that? I had no idea where you went. That cave is not safe, Erik," he'd say, or "There are wild animals in that forest." or "That river is crawling with poisonous snakes." or "Thieves constantly lay in wait along that path, and you are unarmed. You could have been injured or killed, and I would not have been able to find you perhaps for day. I know that you like to explore, Erik, but please try to stay with me."

I would always shrug off his warnings, stay with him for a while, and soon be out of his sight again. When I returned, I would receive the same lecture from the vexed Persian. When we reached Kazan, it was a simple task to convince the Daroga to take me through the famed mausoleum. I merely told him that I would stay close beside him for the rest of the journey, a promise which I soon "forgot" about entirely.

One reason for my frequent disappearances was the fact that I suspected that his concern was for what the Shah might do to him if I were not found and not for my own well-being as he said. He was lying and he deserved to be aggravated. I also found immensely enjoyment in the look of surprise on the Daroga's face when I vanished and then seemed to suddenly reappear hours later, sometimes revealing my hiding place, and leaving it a secret on other occasions. Exploring these strange lands interested me, but even if it did not, I most likely would have done it for the sheer amusement of the shocked expressions on the older man's face.

When we reached the Caspian Sea, we boarded a rather unstable looking ship. The corridors were tightly packed, and the cabins reeked of dead fish. I voiced this opinion indignantly and then retired to my chamber. At least the Daroga had secured a private room for me. I certainly did not wish to stand on the deck with the numerous other passengers and members of the crew, so I informed Nadir that I was tired, and I remained in my cabin for the next several days. I passed the time sketching endless architectural plans.


	3. The Curse of My Existence

Chapter Three

The Curse of My Existence

"Erik. Erik, do wake up."

My eye flew open as I bolted into a sitting position, not knowing at first what had awakened me. At the sensation of Nadir's hand shaking my shoulder, I pressed both hands firmly against my face. A sigh of relief passed from my lips when my fingers came into contact with the soft leather of my mask. The Daroga's presence had sent me into a panic. I most often sleep without wearing my mask. However, this time the façade was firmly in place. I reasoned that I must have fallen a sleep while sketching and did not think to remove it.

"What do you mean intruding upon my privacy, Daroga?" I retorted angrily. "Have I not made myself clear? When I ask to be alone that is precisely what I expect. You know that I am quite worn out from this journey. Can't you see that I am resting?"

"Yes Erik, I can see that very plainly," he replied a bit impatiently. "I merely thought that I would check up on you, as you have been _resting_ for nearly a week. I thought that you might be ill. You haven't eaten anything and-"

"You needn't worry, Daroga," I cut in. The calmness in his reply only served to make my temper flare again, yet I attempted to control myself, wishing to make it known that I had every bit as much equanimity as this Persian imbecile. "I assure you that I am in perfect health," I continued coolly, "although the stench of this ship might bloody well make a man ill. Surely you could have found a faster, more comfortable means of transportation. This is the hospitality that you show me after calling me away from my work? Really Daroga, this is a cargo ship! We have made at least ten stops since boarding this detestable vessel.

"As for my eating habits, that is entirely my affair. I take my nourishment when I am required to do so. I had a sizeable meal only two days ago. It is only necessary to eat once a day, frequently less often than that. I rarely eat more that one meal every two or three days. Really no one needs to eat as often as they do. Most people simply prefer to take two or three meals in a day. They have set their habits, as I have mine, and that is their business." Seeing that the man was about to protest, I held up a hand to silence him. "Would you kindly inform me of the time, Daroga?" I inquired, swiftly changing to a more favorable topic.

"The time?" he repeated. The Persian appeared quite dumbfounded for a moment; then he removed a watch from within his outer robe, glanced at it, and tucked it safely in the spot from which it had come. "It is nearly midnight," he informed me, a look of exasperation clearly etched on his dark features. "We have been on this ship for numerous days, and before that we spent nearly four weeks traveling from Nijni-Novgrod. Surely you cannot object if I bring you a small bit of supper, if not for your sake for my own appeasement."

"Midnight, you say?" I interrupted, not willing to put up with this ridiculous argument. "Then you really must be getting some sleep, Daroga. I admit that I am a bit fatigued myself. I have spent far too many hours on these plans. God alone knows when I will put them to use," I mused aloud with a simple gesture indicating the pile of sketches before me. After gathering the papers together and removing them from the bed where I sat, I found that I was indeed exhausted. At this realization, I lay back on the creaking mattress, attempting to make myself comfortable, a sign for the Persian to leave me in peace. The bed was quite hard, but I had slept in far worse places. "Now do be on your way, Daroga," I commanded, wearily closing my eyes. "I no longer require your services. You may return when we reach the port and not a minute before."

"Yes, Oh Great One," Nadir replied in mock praise. Through half-open eyes I saw him give a scornful bow and then move quickly toward the exit.

I chose to ignore his insolence. Letting out a caustic laugh as I pulled the coarse blanket over my thin body. "And Daroga," I called, stretching lethargically. The Persian turned to look at me once more. I propped myself up with one arm and fixed him with an icy glare. Once I was certain that I had his full attention I gave my finale instructions, "Do knock before you enter this time. I assure you that this journey will end most abruptly and unpleasantly for you should you choose to ignore my warnings and enter my quarters unannounced. Privacy is something in which I place tremendous value. Have I made myself quite clear?"

Nadir merely nodded and then withdrew from the cabin in silent but reluctant acquiescence. When he had gone, I removed my mask and lay back closing my eyes with a somnolent sigh. For once in my life I was thankful for my near lack of a sense of smell. My nose—if you can call it a nose, for it is truthfully more of a black chasm where a nose should be—has never allowed me to smell much of anything, and the disagreeable odder of fish was faint to my senses. As unfavorable as I found my resting place, I managed to fall asleep in a matter of minutes, and I did not awake again until the sound of a fist rapping on the door reached my ears. I knew that the knock was a signal from my traveling companion. After what seemed like ages, we had reached the distant shores of Persia.

When I had my mask in place, I gathered my things, and Nadir led me to the spot where the horses were waiting. Taking the black stallion's lead-rope in my hand, I guided him off of the ship, murmuring soothingly to the animal in my native tongue. The poor creature did not seem to agree with being tied up in the depths of a ship, and he seemed quite glad to be standing on dry land again. At that time, we traveled again by horseback, as we would do for the remainder of our journey. Nadir and I talked very little, and Darius only spoke in reply to his master. After my reiterations of disgust at our former traveling arrangements—that dreadful hulk of a ship—we continued in silence. The foreigners had the sense to leave me to my own thoughts. At length the Daroga spoke, only to inform me of our sleeping arrangements for the night. We would be spending that night outdoors. I made no argument. My only unvoiced complaint was the fact that I would be forced to sleep while wearing that suffocating mask yet again. After a dreadfully uncomfortable night, we continued on our way, silently as before.

After several hours Nadir spoke, again to inform me of the progress of our journey. "We will reach the village in about five minutes," he told me in a pleasant tone. "Tonight we will be staying in an inn, and tomorrow you will come with me to my home in Ashraf. The Shah will not miss you for a few more days, and I have promised my son, Diya, that he would be the first to meet the great magician from abroad."

I smiled in response to his comment. This reaction obviously shocked the Daroga.

"How old is your son?" I asked, attempting to pass the time with some sort of conversation. Our journey had been quite dull for the last two days, as neither of us had spoken a word in quite some time and I had refrained from taking my customary detours. And somehow, there arose in my heart a desire to befriend the man with whom I traveled, although I doubted that that was possible. Friends were one thing that I did not make easily. If my harsh temper and scathing remarks did not drive them away, one look at my face did the job. Enemies were plentiful, but I had scarcely had a companion in my life.

"He is ten years old," Nadir told me, "though I might as well warn you that he is not like other children. He has a severe disease which is slowly taking away his sight as well has his ability to walk. He is a joyful child by nature, but even Diya is beginning to run out of hope that he will one day be healed. All that he wants is to be able to run and play with the other children. He will tell you that without hesitation."

"Has he seen a doctor?" I inquired in genuine concern.

"Oh yes, many doctors," he replied sadly, "but none of them seem to know what to do for him. They have never seen a case like his. To be perfectly frank, Persia is not exactly known for the skills of our doctors. Nearly everyone in the Royal Court relies upon foreign physicians."

My eyes conveyed my condolences. "Perhaps there is something I can do for him," I said hesitantly. "I know quite a bit about medicine. Mind you, what I do know I learned from scanning through a few medical books belonging to one of my mother's-" I paused, loathing the memory of the doctor to whom my mother had become so attached only months after my father's death. "…One of my mother's friends," I continued, quickly pushing those bitter memories aside. "And I learned quite a lot from my time with the gypsies. I am hardly a refined physicians, but perhaps I may be of some assistance."

The Daroga looked at me hopefully; then he glanced upward, clasping his hands in thanks. "Allah be praised," he murmured. "At last our prayers have been answered." His gaze then returned to me. "Would you please take a look at him when we arrive at my home?" he asked with a new light in his eyes. "The doctors say that he will grow out of his illness. Perhaps you can help to speed up the recovery. Erik?"

"Of course," I replied, "but I can make no guarantees that I can heal him. I am a magician after all, not Allah."

At the conclusion of this phrase, we continued the journey in silence. He seemed more hopeful now, almost lighthearted. I only prayed—something that I did not do often—that I hadn't given him false hope in my abilities as a physician. In my heart, I envied this boy who I had not yet meant. I wondered what it would be like to have a father who cared for me that much. I had scarcely known my father, due to his early death and my mother's insistence that he never look at my face. Madeleine, my mother, certainly could not be said to love me as the Daroga seemed to love his son. No, she would have sooner seen me dead that grant me even a simple kiss. My eyes filled with tears, but I blinked them back stubbornly and rode on in reticence.

When we reached the inn, Nadir gave a knock on the door. An older woman dressed in traditional garments and veils opened the door and asked us to enter. A servant boy swept to our side, bowing and telling us that he would care for the horses. I gave him strict instructions to take excellent care of my treasure. Moon-dancer was all the family that I had, and I would not tolerate anything but the best care for him.

With these instructions, I followed Nadir and the woman into the inn. It was small, but comfortable, and better yet, I would have the comfort of solitude. Darius was sent to another portion of the inn and I did not see him again until we departed the following morning. After I had placed my things in the room where I would be staying, I requested a bath, as I felt quite shabby from the long journey. My companion nodded his approval and agreed that bathing would do him some good as well. When I returned with a clean suit of clothing, three servant girls in scanty attire were summonsed to take us to our baths. They stared warily at my mask and whispered to one another. After some short conversation between them, one went with Nadir while the other two beckoned apprehensively to me. Most likely they did not feel safe alone with a masked stranger. Neither of the women lay a finger on me as they led me away, although I noticed the third girl regarding the Persian quite differently. However, I was quite use to this treatment from women. They always seemed to fear me.

"Meet me in the dinning hall when you are finished," Nadir called after me as we headed in two separate directions.

"I will," I called back.

I followed my escorts in silence, my eyes fixed on the walls rather than the women and their alluring apparel. I was glad that they left me alone in the large bathroom. At first I was not quite sure what their job was, and I was thankful that they did not attempt to assist me in bathing. Once I was alone I undressed, removing my mask last. Then I slowly lowered myself into the warm water. Ah, that felt simply marvelous. I washed the dust from my hair first and then the rest of my body. Then I simply lay in the tub, allowing the warm water to work its healing powers on my tired muscles.

I could have fallen asleep right there, but then I remembered Nadir. By this time he had surely finished his bath and would likely be waiting for me in the dinning hall. Reluctantly, I left the soothing water and dried off with a towel that was lying on a nearby bench. Then I slipped into my clean suit, which was also neatly folded on the bench. I put on my boots and took my other clothing back to the room with my belongings. With that, I headed to the dinning hall. It was not hard to find in so small an inn. Nadir sat at a corner table. There were only a few other people in the room, for which I was grateful. I quickly made my way to the table. I noticed that he had not touched any of the food yet.

"I hope I have not kept you waiting long," I said, taking a seat across from him.

"Not at all," my guide replied.

We began eating, talking pleasantly now. The food was different from anything I had tasted before, but to my liking. The mango juice that we had to drink was agreeable; however, after the long trip I only wanted was a good glass of French wine.

"Nadir," I asked, pushing the glass aside, "do they serve any wine here?"

He looked at me in surprise. "There is a kind of strong drink called arrack here in Persia. I am sure that it is nothing like what you are used to in your home country, but I presume they serve it here. My beliefs do not allow me to drink, but I can ask the servants for you if you wish."

I asked him to do so and he called to a girl who was walking by with a bowl of fruit. She was quite lovely; I could not help but notice. The girl was very attentive to the Persian and like most women, apprehensive around me. She brought me a bottle of that strange drink, along with a glass. I thanked her in her native tongue. Without a single word, the girl quickly turned and rushed off to another table, a look of horror coming over her face. I shrugged my shoulders in practiced apathy, very much used to this reaction from women. It was the curse of my existence to repel all members of the opposite gender. The fact that I was accustomed to rejection did not mean that it did not still wound me, but fortunately, my mask aided me in hiding my feelings most of the time. I then poured myself a glass of arrack. It was my first that evening, but definitely not my last. I hardly touched another bite of my food, but I cannot say the same for the liquor. The last I remember, the bottle was half empty.


	4. Arrival in Ashraf

Chapter Four

Arrival in Ashraf

I awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. It took me a moment to realize that the sound, which had awakened me, was a rather loud knock on the door. The noise was obnoxious and only served to intensify my headache. I glanced around the room in exhausted irritation. At first I was not even certain of where I was, but my traveling companion's voice soon brought back a bit of memory to my foggy mind.

"Erik, may I come in," Nadir asked through the wooden structure.

Before replying, I raised one hand and felt cautiously to make certain that my mask was intact. To my relief, the façade had not moved.

"Yes, come in, come in," I called impatiently. I sat up rather stiffly and placed a hand on my throbbing head in a futile attempt to quell the pain.

The Daroga entered, immediately lowering his gaze in a contrite manner.

"I am sorry, Erik. I did not mean to wake you. I assumed that you would be up by now," the Persian said. Apparently the sight of me sitting on the edge of my bed staring at him blearily gave away the fact that he had disturbed my slumber. "It was a foolish assumption," he went on, shaking his head apologetically. "I should have known better. You had quite a lot to drink last night. Oh, here." Striding toward my resting place, Nadir pulled something from behind his back. I squinted my eyes in an effort to clear my vision. When the Persian stood quite near to me, he handed me a small object, which I could now identify as a bag of ice. A bit of a smile appeared on his face. "I thought that you could use this," he said in a surprisingly lighthearted tone.

"Thank you," I replied still a bit testily, taking the ice from him. "Turn around Daroga. I am removing my mask, and I do not wish to trouble you at the sight of my face." The man looked as if he were about to speak, but apparently thought better of it and merely followed my instructions. When he had obeyed, I removed my mask and held the bag to my forehead. Nothing could have felt better at the moment than that cool, damp cloth against my throbbing head. I sighed at the relief that it brought, then closed my eyes and reclined lazily on the comfortable bed.

"Exactly how much did I have to drink last evening?" I questioned lethargically.

"The whole bottle," came his somber reply.

I only groaned in response. I could make no excuses for my behavior. I could only berate myself silently for my lack of wisdom and self-restraint. When would I learn not to let women effect me in such a way? I simply had to accept the fact that I would always bring them fear. Nothing would alter that fact, and I could not spend all of my days mourning for things that could not be changed.

The Daroga's next comment startled my mind back into the present.

"You needn't hide your face, Erik," he interjected simply. "I have seen it already."

"What!" My eyes flew open at once. I could feel the blood rushing through my ears, my breathing becoming heavy, my mind a bit unstable. I knew this feeling all too well. This was the feeling that always preceded my fits of irrepressible rage; in a moment I would loose control. Everything in the room seemed to take on a crimson glow as I was enveloped in a familiar blanket of wrath. I dashed at him madly, encircling my hands about his throat in an iron grip. "How dare you, Daroga!" I screamed. "How dare you take advantage of the state that I was in last night! How dare you look at my face! You know the rules, don't you? Now that I am free from that filthy carnival, any man who sees my face dies! You have broken the rules, Daroga!" My chest burned with a feeling of rage that was almost physical. I was certainly angry enough to kill the impudent fool right then and there. I began to shake the Persian with all of my might. It would not be long before he either passed out or expired completely.

"Er-Erik stop!" my frantic victim choked out. "I di-I did not remove… your mask! It was… that… wa-waitress!"

The scarlet haze slowly melted from my sight, and I gradually regained control over my senses. In a moment I released my hold on him, wearily lowering my thin body to sit the bed. My long fingers covered my entire face with habitual ease. "Tell me what happened," I muttered through the makeshift mask of my hands. There was a pause, and I used it to retrieve the bag of ice from the floor, swiftly placing the cool object on my head again. Although the Daroga had now seen my face twice, I was careful to keep it hidden with both hands.

"Alright," Nadir said at length, gingerly rubbing his neck where I had nearly strangled him. Abrasions were already beginning to form on his throat. "Well, I noticed that you seemed a bit upset after the waitress gave you the alcohol," he began. I rolled my eyes, a gesture which he did not see, as my face was still completely hidden. "You poured yourself a glass and consumed it in a single gulp. Then you sat the glass down and filled it again. You took another long drink and then made some comment about the inferiority of the drink in comparison to French wine. That did not seem to bother you in the slightest, because in another moment you had downed another glass. I tried to get you interested in the food instead, but you were quite preoccupied with the bottle of arrack. With extensive coaxing you ate a bit more, but after your fourth glass all you would do was drink. Before long, you had finished off the contents of the bottle. You murmured something in French and then laid your head down on the table. Now, I speak very little French, and with your slurred words I couldn't understand a thing that you said."

"It's probably just as well," I smirked.

The man glared at me, obviously not amused by my comment. After a brief pause, he went on, "I tried to speak to you, but you did not seem to hear me. Truthfully I was worried about you, Erik. In a short time, the servant girl came back to see that everything was to our liking. I must confess she captured my attention for a time." A smile crossed his lips, a smile that irked me. "She was really quite a lovely little thing."

"I saw her, Daroga," I retorted bitterly. "Even I am not immune to the fairer sex. I am not blind. My face has deprived me of all fulfillment of the desires of the flesh, but that does not mean that I do not possess the same cravings as any other man."

There was a long silence in which I slowly lowered my hands from their grasp upon my head. 'Perhaps,' I thought, 'another look at my horrid visage will convince him to go no further on the subject of the girl. He had better take a hint. My temper may not be calmed so easily this time.' I stared pensively at my long fingers, entwining and relaxing them repeatedly. In time the Daroga cleared his throat. I raised my gaze to meet his as he began once more:

"I am sorry, Erik. I did not mean to offend you; you must know that. Shall I continue?"

I nodded my silent acquiescence.

"Well, the girl was treating me in a rather flirtatious manner. She-"

"Get on with it, Daroga," I interrupted, my words coming out in a low growl. I rolled my eyes again, clasping both hands tightly over my face. This man was far more unintelligent than I had ever dreamed. Enough was enough. "She flirted with you," I murmured through my fingers. "You are an attractive man. She is an attentive young lady. Why should she not? Now, continue your narrative. What happened next?"

Nadir could see that I was getting annoyed. I was in no mood to discuss the waitress and her pert ways with him, and thankfully he now seemed intelligent enough to take a not-so-subtle insinuation. He was wise enough to go on with the story, so as not to arouse my anger again.

"After a few minutes you stood with some difficulty and stepped a few paces back from the table," the Daroga recalled aloud. "Then the strangest thing happened. Your eyes took on a sort of yellow glow, and you started singing again in French. Your voice was soft and strangely compelling. I have never heard anything like it in all of my life. The girl stood transfixed, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Her head turned gradually towards you, and then she smiled. She began walking towards you slowly, as though she was in some sort of a trance. I must have been in one as well, because could not seem to move a muscle. We both seemed to be held in the power of your voice, as thought you had us in some kind of a spell. I have noticed a certain strange, unearthly quality to your speaking voice, but when you sing..."

His voice trailed off, and I nodded meditatively.

"Yes, I have often been told that," I muttered, more to myself then to my guide. "An angel's voice with a devil's face." I shook my head in order to clear it of thoughts of all the past, still covering my face. "I am sorry for interrupting, Daroga. What else happened?"

"Well, you kept on singing," Nadir told me, "and she came closer to you, still in that slow, trance-like walk. When you two stood only a few inches apart, you wrapped your arms around her waist. The girl clung to you, mindlessly running her fingers through your hair, as you continued to sing to her. She began to caress your mask. At that point, you stopped singing and leaned in as if you were about to kiss her. Then, before I knew what was happening, your mask was in her hand. The girl dropped the mask and backed away with a look of utter terror on her face. In an instant the glow faded from your eyes, and they took on a look of absolutely murderous rage. You ran at her and tried to strangle her, just as you did to me a few moments ago. It took myself and three other men to loosen your grip on her." The Persian looked absolutely bewildered. "I have never seen anyone with such incredible strength. No one would think it to look at you."

I gave a shrug of my skeletal shoulders, a sign for him to continue.

"Once she was free, the girl was taken away to another room. The poor thing was in a terrible shock. I bent and picked up your mask, and from the look in your eyes I expected that you would rush at me next. Thankfully, you merely took a few steps and then passed out on the floor." He too shrugged his shoulders. "Then we carried you back to your room."

I gave an exasperated sigh, adjusting the pack of melting ice on my forehead. There was another long pause before I spoke again.

"I regret that I have upset your plans, Daroga," I stated wearily. "I am afraid I have put us behind schedule. The Shah will not be pleased. We really should be on our way. I am sure you are most eager to get home to your son."

I attempted to stand, but the Persian pushed me back down onto the bed with a defiance that threatened to bring on my fury yet again.

"Really Erik, I insist that you have something to eat first," Nadir commanded. "I am not taking a starving magician to meet my son and certainly not to come before the Shah. It is my duty to see that you are well taken care of. The Shah would have my head if-"

"I am not a bit hungry," I objected, cutting off the continuation of his sentence.

"No? You hardly ate a thing last night, and I do not believe you had a bite to eat on the ship either. I saw no one brining food to your cabin. You have not eaten a sizable meal since we began this journey. Honestly, how to you expect to continue like this? Now, you stay right there. I will go and get you some breakfast, and when you have eaten we will be on our way."

He did not wait for a response. The man simply hurried out of the door as if he feared staying a moment longer, with good reason.

"Dim-witted Persian," I murmured to myself in French as he left the room.

I lay back down and made myself as comfortable as possible with my splitting headache. The ice was soothing, but it was rapidly melting, and this was by far the worse hangover that I had ever experienced. Soon Nadir returned with a tray full of various foods. I selected an apple and waved him away.

"You may go now," I said, purposefully taking on the air of a king speaking to one of his servants. "This is all that I will be wanting."

He glowered at me. "I have nowhere to go, so I will just stay here in case you want more," he replied calmly.

Nadir's obvious defiance of my wishes was grating upon my nerves. When I had finished the piece of fruit with no signs of further appetite he pushed the tray into my lap, demanding that I eat more, regardless of my wishes. I took the tray from him with a look of disgust and began devouring its contents. The food was really quite good, but I was far too annoyed to enjoy it in the slightest. After I had eaten a small meal, I scowled up at the Daroga. He looked quite pleased with himself for forcing the food down my throat. His expression of pleasure infuriated me. I thrust the tray into his awaiting hands.

"I am finished," I said, standing to my feet. "You had better leave now, Daroga. I am not in the mood for a chat. I would not advise your upsetting me again. The consequences could prove fatal for you. I promise you that I am much stronger when I have had nourishment."

"Alright," he said with a quick nod. I fancied that I saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes, but it quickly changed to an expression of repartee. "I will return this to the cook and meet you at the stables in five minutes. I trust that that will be sufficient time to cool your temper."

With those slighting words, he left the room. That was enough. I had certainly had it with him. It would have served the Daroga right if I had left him at that very moment. As the door closed, I screamed curses at him in my native tongue and then added a few choice words in his own language. I smiled to myself. It certainly felt good to get that out, although I knew that he likely did not understand the worst of what I had said—his understanding of French was hardly that broad. Letting out a sigh, I turned to prepare for the remainder of our journey.

Within a few minutes, I had my things gathered together and was waiting for my guide at the stables. I was dressed in my usual attire: black from head to toe with a matching black mask covering my face. I soon tiered of waiting for the Persian and made my way into the stables. There I found the servant boy busily feeding the horses. I bowed to him upon entering, and he greeted me with a warm smile. I then made my way to the stall where Moon-dancer was being kept.

"Bonjour, mon ami. Commet alles-tu sur ce jour joli?" I said to the stallion as I ran my elongated fingers over his sleek, ebony neck. The horse nickered in response and then craned his neck, playfully nuzzling my shoulder. I chuckled and scratched his ears, glad for the companionship that I receive much more readily from animals than humans.

"There you are, Erik. Are you ready?"

I turned abruptly at the sound of Nadir's voice. "Yes," I replied, hiding the embarrassment that might have come through in my voice. "Shall we be going then?"

"Of course," he responded. Then his attention turned quickly to the lad in the stable. "Boy, will you help this gentleman, and I with our horses. You may help him too, Darius. We are preparing to move on."

With a submissive nod, the boy led the three horses out into the fresh air. Then, with his courteous but unneeded assistance we tacked them up, strapping our packs onto the saddles. In a few moments we had mounted the animals and were on our way.

Our journey had begun once again. We talked very little as we rode along. After we had traveled for several hours the Persian sun was becoming unbearably hot. My black clothing did not help matters any, but I kept my intense discomfort to myself. I was grateful, however, when my traveling companion informed me that the horses needed to be watered. He said that there was a spring just ahead, and true to his word we soon arrived at the small body of water.

When we reached the spring, we three dismounted and lead our horses to the cool water. After filling my canteen, I left my horse at the water's edge, allowing his reigns to fall loosely into the sand as I took a seat under the shadow of a nearby tree. I knew that the stallion would never wander far from me. Even the bridle was quite unnecessary to control him; he obeyed me of his own free will. I could not help but smile as I watched the beautiful creature enjoying the cool stream. It was most refreshing to remove my black fedora and use the hat as a fan, as I enjoyed the water myself unreservedly. Although I did my best not to show it, the heat had made my headache nearly intolerable. The ice bag long since gone, I held my canteen up to my head, hoping that the cool water inside would ease the throbbing pain. It brought some relief, and for that I was thankful. The water was cold and comforting to my aching head. A soft sigh passed from my lips as I sunk down upon the sand lying flat on my back, taking comfort in the shade of that tree. I lay there for some time, intermittently sipping from the canteen, and then placing it back upon my head.

After I had rested for a few minutes, I joined my traveling companions at the brim of the spring. The Daroga looked up from where he sat beside his servant and the horses, and he smiled at me. I returned his smile, a rare gesture for me, and then knelt beside the water's edge. I filled my canteen once more, for I had nearly drained it. As the throbbing began again, I held the object to my head, just above the top of my mask. Nadir gave a nod of sympathy, whispered something to Daruis, and allowed me a few more minutes of rest in that blissful silence before we moved on.

A few minutes later, we had mounted our horses and headed toward Nadir's house. The journey seemed to take ages. I was beginning to wonder if we would get there before nightfall, although quite some time back the Daroga had told me that we should be there in three hours if our horses made good time. 'Surely at least four hours have passed,' I thought wearily. 'It will be dark soon.' That thought brought me some small consolation. At least we would not have to deal with this unbearable heat for many more hours. I rolled my eyes as I caught site of the steep hill that loomed before us. I was so exhausted that I could have sworn that I would to fall off my horse before we reached the top, but I did not. As we arrived at the peak, Nadir pointed to something in the distance.

"That's it!" he exclaimed. "That is the city of Ashraf. And that white building surrounded by those trees is my home. We are almost there." He looked from Darius to me excitedly, clearly eager to be at home. "Erik, do you think we could go a bit faster?"

I gave him a weary smile. "I am sure we can," I said, knowing that he only wished to be with his son. I gathered my strength and sat up straight. Then I urged my horse on to a gallop. Nadir and his servant joined me, and in a few moments their horses were running beside mine.


	5. Diya’s Surprise

Chapter Five

Diya's Surprise

With our horses at a full gallop, it only took us a few more minutes to reach Nadir's home. Darius took our horses to the stable where one of the other servants would care for them. Then, carrying our luggage with us, Nadir and I followed his trusted servant up the stone path that lead to his home. It was a beautiful house, almost like a small palace built entirely of rich white stone. As soon as we entered his dwelling, the sound of a young boy's voice filled our ears.

"Father!" The voice came from a small child who was obviously the Daroga's son. He tried to run to his father, but stumbled a little along the way. I flinched at his faltering steps. A woman stood in the corner—apparently the boy's attendant—looking on restlessly. Nadir quickly closed the distance between them, making it a bit easier on his son. The maidservant disappeared in the direction from which she had come, as the happy father swooped his son up into his arms and whirled him around. I took a few steps back, feeling a bit out of place in the midst of this happy reunion.

"Did you bring me a pet monkey this time?" the boy questioned excitedly.

"Always a pet monkey, is it?" Nadir returned, still holding the child in his arms. "No, not this time. I thought that you had given up that notion months ago."

Once Nadir had his son's feet planted firmly on the ground, the two talked for a moment, not seeming to remember that I was present. Suddenly, the boy turned in my direction.

"Who is that, Father?" he asked, pointed towards me, a look of childish glee in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry Erik," Nadir apologized. "Diya, this is the great magician that the Shah sent me to find. His name is Erik Garron." He gave me an inquisitive look as if to say, "Did I get it right?" I nodded in response and gave him a bit of a smile. "Erik, this is the boy whom I told you of, my son Diya. He has been looking forward to meeting you."

"How do you do, Diya?" I said with a courteous bow.

"How do you do, sir?" The boy returned my bow and then looked at me with an unveiled expression of delight. "Oh Mr. Erik—may I call you Mr. Erik?—are you really the greatest magician in the whole world?" I scarcely had the chance to give my reply to his first question by way of nodding before the child continued, "Can you really make anything disappear… even people and whole buildings? Mr. Erik, will you please show me some of your magic?"

"Some have called me that," I said, gently placing a long finger to the boy's lips in order to silence him, "but I fear that their stories may be a bit exaggerated." I could not help but laugh at his eagerness. "Perhaps I will show you some later this evening," I replied. Then, without any further words, I pulled Nadir's watch from inside my cloak. The boy was absolutely delighted by the simple trick. I returned his smile and then glanced at the timepiece. "It's about dinner time," I said casually, "and I am sure your father will wish for us to eat first, as we have not had any lunch." Still smiling, I handed the Daroga his watch. He looked at me utterly dumbfounded.

"By Allah! How did you get this?" he demanded. "I just had it in my hand a moment ago, and then I put it in my pocket. Erik you-"

I shrugged. "We magicians never tell our secrets." I looked down at the boy who was still gazing up at me in wonder. He clapped his hands gleefully.

"Oh, do more, do more!" he exclaimed. "Please Mr. Erik!"

"Erik is right," Nadir said, putting his arm on Diya's shoulder. "We would like to clean up a bit and have some dinner first. Then perhaps he will give us a private show of his skills." He looked at me questioningly.

"Yes, a bath would be most enjoyable," I said, looking down at my grimy clothing. "And perhaps I will take something to eat after I have washed. Then it would be my pleasure to perform for you and your son."

Diya's eyes danced as he looked from me to his father and then back to me. "Oh wonderful, wonderful! I knew you would! You are so nice, Mr. Erik," he said. Then throwing his arms around my legs, he hugged me rather roughly for a boy of his size. I was so surprised that my knees nearly gave way. When I had recovered from the initial shock, I steadied myself and looked helplessly at Nadir. I was quite unaccustomed to this kind of affection from any member of the human race. I could not help but notice that the Daroga appeared to be a bit uncomfortable with the situation as well.

"Come Diya," Nadir said a bit sharply, pulling the boy away from me. "You must remember your manners. We will show Erik to his room now. You may come if you will behave as a young gentlemen."

"Yes Father."

Diya walked demurely between us, holding one of my hands and one of his father's hands. The chilling touch of my fingers surprised the lad at first, yet it did not seem to trouble him as it did most people. We moved upstairs into a lovely guestroom, and there my host motioned for me to put down my things.

"This is where you will be staying while you are with us," Nadir informed me. "And now, young man," he said, turning to his son, addressing him a bit more gently. "I think we better leave Erik alone to clean up."

"Alright," he agreed reluctantly. "But-"

"Come now Diya."

The boy followed his father back to the door, a disappointed expression on his young features. There he turned and waved to me. I waved back almost mechanically, still surprised by the kindness that the boy was already showing towards me. Then, with some difficulty, he left.

Once they were gone, I set down my things, got out a clean outfit, and headed for the bathtub. I could not help but pity the boy. He was son young, and yet his illness was far worse than I had imagined. It would be more than difficult to explain our dilemma to his father: the boy would not out-grow his infirmity. From the looks of things the decease was spreading and would only become worse over time. I dreaded the discussion that Nadir and I must have, and I made up my mind to put aside the subject until the following morning. Again I lingered in the tub for a long time, reveling in the feeling of the warm water all over my tiered body. I finally had to force myself to get out and dry off. I glanced at my filthy clothes and then placed them in a basket, assuming that the servants would find them there and see that they were properly cleaned. With that, I changed into the dry clothes, replaced my mask, and headed back downstairs.

Diya greeted me when I reached the front room where he sat with a book in his lap, his attendant not far away.

"Hello Mr. Erik," he said with a smile. "Father is waiting for us in the dinning room."

"Thank you, Diya." I offered him an arm for support. "Will you show me the way?"

Waving his servant away and forcing a smile, I assisted the boy in standing. With careful steps, he led me to the dinning room. Nadir stood upon our entrance.

"Well Erik, I was hopping you would join us," he said with a smile. "Please sit down."

Diya and I moved to the head of the table, sitting on either side of him. A lady whom I took to be the Daroga's cook came and served us a fantastic dinner. As I had had very little food on my journey, I was quite famished. I ate rather more than I should have, but Nadir seemed pleased by my unexpected change of appetite. When I was done, I was exceedingly full, and I promised myself that it would be several more days before I ate again.

With a slight groan, I sat back in my chair, folding my hands over my flat mid-section, which felt as though it had swollen at least three times its normal size. A good, long nap would have been most welcome at the moment; however, I would not have that opportunity. No sooner had I assumed this relaxing position then Diya was standing beside me, excitedly begging that I keep my promise.

"Please, will you show us some more tricks now, Mr. Erik? Please… please?"

Despite my weariness, I could not help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"Yes, of course I will. If you will excuse me a moment, I will prepare for the show," I told them, rising from my chair.

"Alright," Nadir replied. "If you would not mind. Diya is a bit tonight overly excited, although I must admit that I am curious myself. I am sure that your reputation is well earned. Come out on the balcony when you are ready. We will watch you there."

They showed me to the balcony that he spoke of, and then I headed upstairs to retrieve my cloak and other props. Soon I returned to Nadir and his son and gave them an elaborate display of my skills. I included all the tricks that would have been in one of my normal show, with the exception of the unmasking. How thankful I was not to have to show my face for this audience. Diya and his father were the perfect audience. They both watched in sheer amazement as I went through my routines. The boy especially seemed to enjoy the bit of ventriloquism that I did. When my performance was over, Diya and Nadir clapped vigorously.

"Oh, please do more!" Diya exclaimed.

I was about to concede to his request, when Nadir spoke.

"I think it is time we should all be going to bed," he said firmly, placing a hand calmingly on the boy's shoulder. "It has been a long day for all of us, and I am sure Erik is quite worn out."

"Really, Daroga, I am fine," I contradicted his statement. "If your son would like for me do a few more tricks, surely it cannot do any harm."

"Yes, please, Father," Diya begged, pulling at Nadir's sleeve.

"Well, alright," he gave in. "If it will make you happy, my child. But just a few more."

Diya was thrilled with my final maneuvers. Even the Daroga seemed totally amazed. When I finished, they clapped even more excitedly. I bowed as both father and son applauded me.

"That was fantastic, Mr. Erik!" the boy exclaimed, struggling to stand. His father helped him to walk to me. And then he embraced me again. This time, I was more prepared for the boy's affection and managed to keep my balance.

In a few moments, Nadir tapped his son on the shoulder.

"Alright Diya, enough of that. It is past your bed time," he said.

The boy did not move.

"Now Diya, if you are a good boy and go to bed now, like your father said," I put in, "tomorrow I will have a special surprise for you."

"A surprise?" he squealed with joy.

"Yes," I replied, delighted that he was so pleased. "You will have a special surprise, one that not even the Shah will see."

The boy was thrilled, although, I was sure that Nadir did not approved of my bribery.

"Leila," Nadir called. The middle-aged maidservant who attended the boy came out onto the balcony. "Leila," he addressed her, "see that Diya gets to bed now."

"Yes master," she said with a bow. Then she escorted the child off to his room.

As soon at they were out of sight, Nadir turned to me.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked eagerly.

"What do I think?" I questioned in surprise. "What do I think of what?"

"Of Diya, of course. Is there anything that you can do for him?" he inquired.

I flinched. "I… I don't know," I stammered, a bit taken off guard. Not tonight. I could not tell him so soon. "I haven't really had a chance to examine him," I told him warily. "Perhaps I can do that tomorrow."

"Oh yes, please do. It would mean ever so much to me," Nadir said, his eyes full of concern. Again I felt that sorrowful envy rising with in my chest. Perhaps this trip had not been wise. I could never be a part of a real family, and seeing the Daroga with his son only served to arouse longings for things that I could not have. Things such as love. Rapidly pushing those thoughts aside, I forced a smile and nodded.

"Very well, tomorrow it is. How can I refuse?"

When I returned to my quarters, it was not for sleep. That night, I was up until it was almost dawn, for I was working on my special surprise for Diya. When at last it was finished, I admired my work, smiling to myself. Diya would be delighted. With a sigh of complete exhaustion, I removed my mask, collapsing a moment later onto my bed. In sheer moments I was sleeping soundly.


	6. The Illusion of the Monkey Musician

A/N: Ok, I've finally got a new chapter for this one. So sorry that it took me so long. I just kept sitting down to write and then I'd get interrupted and loose my train of thought. It's finally here. Hope the next one is up a bit more quickly. Also, I made several changes in my past chapters. For those who do not want to spend the time reading them all over again, the only important changes that I remember are 1.) the rulers in Persia are the Shah and his younger sister the Sultana (not the Khanum, his mother as I was previously writing it), 2.) When Erik first arrived and saw and saw Diya, Nadir's son, he recognized that the boy's illness is far worse than what he had imagined from the Daroga's description, and he is still hesitant to tell Nadir, 3.) When Diya first sees his father again, he asks (as he apparently often does when his father returns from a journey) if he brought him back a pet monkey. The other changes are just little details and things that I don't remember like grammatical corrections, like the fact that I split the last chapter into two chapters. And now, on to chapter six. Enjoy. Please send reviews.

Chapter Six

The Illusion of the Monkey Musician

In the morning, I was again awakened by a knock on my door. I sat up quickly, and habitually tying my mask on, I walked to the door. Upon opening it I was greeted by a young maidservant whom I had seen running about the kitchen on the previous night.

"Good morning Sir," she greeted me with a little bow, hiding her fear of me very well for a woman. "My master wishes to know if you will be joining him and his son for breakfast."

"You may thank him and offer my apologies. I am afraid that I must decline this morning, Mademoiselle." I paused, stifling a yawn. "What is your name Mademoiselle?"

"Hanan," she replied. The young lady's anxiety was begging to show by this time.

"Well Mademoiselle Hanan," I continued, taking a step away from her in order to ease her worries, "I am still exceptionally tired after my journey. You may tell the Daroga that I will be down later on this morning."

"Very well, Sir," she said. The woman gave a second quick bow and then left.

Once she was gone, I moved lethargically to the table beside my bed, my eyes still half-closed. My fingers groped over the marbled surface until they met with a familiar metal object. Peering at my watch, I saw that the time was only a quarter after six, and I had slept for about two hours. I removed my mask and stretched out lazily on the soft bed. Sunlight poured in from a nearby widow. I quickly pulled the blanket over my head, blocking out the unwelcome rays of light. Soon I had drifted off into a deep sleep.

When I awoke again, it was about noon. I felt quite refreshed but a bit groggy, perhaps from over-sleeping. I quickly replaced my mask, straightened my ruffled clothing, combed back my hair, and then made my way downstairs. No one was anywhere in sight, at first glance. I wandered around hesitantly for a few minutes, finding only a few servants preoccupied with housework. At last, I located the boy's attendant. He could not be far off.

"Excuse me Mademoiselle Leila, do you know where I might find Nadir and Diya?" I asked, peering around a nearby corning in hopes of finding them.

The woman turned at once at the sound of my voice, and she stared at me in startled silence for a few moments.

"I… I am sorry…. You frightened me, Sir," she panted at last. "Yes Sir… they are in the dinning room having lunch. The master told me to inform you that you are welcome to join them if you wish."

"Thank you Leila," I said, bowing to her.

Although she too did her best to hide it, I could tell that the poor woman was absolutely terrified of me. Lowering my gaze, I walked slowly to the dinning room where I found the Daroga and his son already eating.

"Ah, good morning Erik," Nadir greeted me, "or should I say good afternoon. Please do sit down."

"What took you so _long_?" the boy asked impatiently, pushing his plate aside.

"Diya, I'm surprised at you!" his father scolded. "Where are your manners?"

"I'm sorry, Father, Mr. Erik," he returned, hanging his head in shame.

"It is quite alright, Diya," I attempted to cheer him up, smiling and gently lifting his chin with one bony finger. "I know that you are simply excited about seeing your surprise. You are a bit impatient, but you have every reason to be. Never fear, you will get it right after you've finished eating."

"Oh, my surprise!" he cried, happily clapping his little hands together, a common gesture of his that I found most endearing.

I sat down across from the boy, folding my hands in my lap.

"Help yourself," Nadir offered. "There is plenty of food."

"Nothing for me, thank you," I replied, shaking my head. "I do not eat lunch as a rule." It was true. I was quite accustomed to eating only one meal a day, if that. Nadir gave me a look of disapproval. I simply ignored his cold stair, shrugging it off and dismissing the reprimand that he was surely about to give, before it was spoken. "Really, you cannot blame me Daroga; I could eat another bite after last evening."

The Daroga and I watch in silence as the boy hurriedly finished his lunch. A few minutes later, when his plate was clean, Diya looked up.

"I'm done," he said definitely. "May I go with Mr. Erik now and see my surprise? Please Father? Please?"

"I suppose so," Nadir answered hesitantly, "but after that, I wish to speak with Erik alone, and you still have your lessons today. Erik may not stay with us if you use his presence as an excuse to neglect your schoolwork. I will not have him distracting you, Diya."

The boy pouted, and I thought it best to speak on his behalf as well as mine.

"Very well, Nadir." I nodded. "When we have finished, I will meet you in the garden, and your son will attend to his lessons. I will not be a diversion from his schooling; I promise you that. Come with me, Diya."

With no further words to the Daroga, I gathered the frail boy in my arms and carried him up to the guestroom. Once we had reached the room, I stood him on the floor, carefully seeing that his legs were steady. Then I walked over to a stool that I had waiting.

"And here, Diya, is your surprise," I said, motioning to the empty stool. A smile tugged at my lips. He looked at me questioningly and then started to speak:

"But, I don't see any-"

I silenced him by putting the long fingers of one hand to his lips. "But there is a surprise," I told him in a voice little more than a whisper. "You will see Diya, things are not always as they seem." With that, I waved my cloak over the stool and then pulled it away. Beneath it appeared a little music box. Sitting atop the box was a lead figure of a monkey, dressed in Persian robes, and playing the cymbals. This was the surprise that had taken me nearly all night to fashion for him, and I was very proud of the little automaton.

Diya squealed with delight and clapped his hands vigorously. As soon as he did this, the small box started playing. The monkey's little hands moved, clinking his cymbals together throughout the song. Diya stood transfixed, watching in utter amazement. When the music had finished playing, he limped to my side and looked up at me, his eyes shining.

"It's the perfect surprise, Mr. Erik! I have always wanted a pet monkey, but I think this is even better. At least Father can't complain about this monkey making a mess of the house. How does it work?" he asked eagerly.

"It works like any living musician," I replied with a proud smile. "The monkey is very special, almost like a living thing. Each time he will perform a different tune, but he will only play when you clap for him. Without your applause he will remain silent. And he will not play for just anyone. The mere polite clapping of those uninterested in his art will only discourage him. You see Diya, you must applaud enthusiastically to satisfy an artist's insatiable sense of pride."

Once again the boy looked astonished. He nodded slowly, and then his eyes lit up.

"Oh thank you, Mr. Erik!" he exclaimed, throwing his little arms around me again. I smiled this time. I was beginning to get used to the boy's attachment to me. He was the first person to show me any manner of devotion, and I was actually growing to enjoy the child's attention. I gently patted the boy's head and allowed the embrace to last for a few minutes. Then I remembered that Nadir was waiting to speak with me. I could not put off the inevitable. The Daroga must know about his son's health.

"All right, Diya," I said, prying the boy away from myself. "I need to go and talk to your father now, so you run along and be a good boy."

"Aw, that means I have to go finish my lessons," he grimaced at the thought.

I laughed gently at his reaction. "That is the only way you will grow up to be a big, smart man like your father," I told him. "You must have adequate education in order to gain favor with the Shah. After all, you are a noble." Not that that meant much; in Persia, it was said that he princes outnumbered the camels and the fleas.

"I don't want to be a prince," he said decidedly. "When I grow up, I want to be a magician like you."

I allowed the boy to lead me back downstairs without seeing where we were going, completely stunned by his dedication to me. He wanted to be like me? That was absolutely unthinkable. If only he knew what it was that he wished for. A life traveling with the fair, for me, meant a life of constantly being on your guard, killing often to protect yourself. What the civilized world knows as murder had become an art to me. The boy's voice called my mind back to reality. We were standing on the veranda in the midst of a flock of wicker furniture, looking out into a beautiful garden.

"Father, come see what Mr. Erik gave me!" Diya called merrily.

"What is it, my son?" Nadir asked. He approached us quickly, studying the little music box in the boy's hand.

"_He_ is a monkey, like I always wanted," he stated proudly. "But he's not just any monkey. He's a musician."

Nadir gave me a look of incredulity and muttered, "A musician? What kind of ideas have you been putting into his head?"

"He is a wonderful musician," Diya went on, ignoring Nadir's comment. "Listen." The child clapped his hands loudly, and the music box began to play. The Daroga watched, one eyebrow raised skeptically, apparently contemplating the illusion. When the song had finished, the monkey gave a little bow. With a delighted smile, Diya turned to his father. "He will play for you too if you clap for him. He'll play a new song for you. Clap Father. Clap!"

Nadir humored him and clapped very softly. Nothing. The monkey was still, as I knew he would be. I was about to speak when Diya gave my explanation for me.

"No, no. Not like that Father. It works like any living musician," he parroted. "'You must applaud enthusiastically to satisfy an artist's insatiable sense of pride.' That's what Mr. Erik said."

The Daroga gave me a questioning glance, and I nodded, folding my arms across my chest and leaning on a nearby pillar. A faint smile curled at my lips; I was very proud indeed of the little follower that I had gained. At his boy's insistence, Nadir applauded a bit louder, but not nearly loud enough. There were cries of, "Louder Father!" and "Mr. Erik says that you have to clap with enthusiasm! The monkey will be hurt if you don't!" Diya's tone grew a bit more commanding. "More Father! _More_!" Finally, when his applause reached the proper level, the monkey acknowledged him and began to play another variation of the same haunting melody.

Nadir studied the little box even more keenly as it played, and when it had finished he gave me a knowing look. Apparently, he thought that he had mastered the illusion of the monkey musician.

"Again! Again!" Diya squealed.

The boy was about to put his hands together for the little monkey once again when his father's hand on one shoulder stayed him.

"Wait Diya," Nadir instructed calmly. "Let's not clap this time and see what it does. Just wait. Your monkey will play again if we are patient."

"No," I interjected, taking a seat in one of the wicker chairs. "He will not play again. You may wait all day, and you will not get a sound out of that little box. The monkey is not set to a timing device, Daroga."

"Come now, Erik, there must be some sort of explanation for it," he insisted, anger slowly creeping into his tone. "This monkey does not know when we are clapping. It cannot tell when we applaud with vigor. It is a toy!"

"If you insist, Daroga," I replied coolly. "But I can tell you now that it will not work without wholehearted applause."

Rolling his eyes, Nadir completely ignored my correction. He watched the little box for several minutes, and I could clearly see that he was loosing his equanimity. It troubled him greatly when he could not comprehend such a simple illusion. Lines of anger creased his forehead. When he could take no more of that mocking silence, the Daroga rose, tearing the box from his son's hands.

"It must have run down," he said triumphantly, hoping once again that he had found the proper solution. "I will wind it up again, and then the monkey will play. Where is the key?"

"There is no key," I told him wearily.

"Nonsense Erik. There must be a key. Where have you hidden it?"

I gave no reply. He turned the music box over several times, searching almost frantically for the alleged key. Sighing wearily, I placed one hand to my head. He would have to give up this futile attempt soon; there was in truth no key. I had shut my eyes for a moment when Diya's sudden cry alerted me to his father's ridiculous behavior.

"Father stop! Please don't shake my monkey! You'll hurt him!"

My eyes flew open. The man seemed to have gone insane. He was shaking the little box wrathfully, as if somehow that would help him to understand its secret. Diya stood looking up at his father, his eyes wide with horror as he pulled on the corner of his robe, screaming for mercy for his precious toy. This would have to stop at once.

"Daroga, give me the automaton," I quietly addresses him, standing and holding out one hand for the small figure. He obeyed silently with sudden calmness of manner. "Really Daroga," I went on in that same soft, forceful tone. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Such childish behavior. I fear that you could not comprehend the illusion of this particular toy, even if I were to explain it to you. By all rights, I should not tell you now. However, I will enlighten you this evening when Diya has gone to bed if you are still so eager to learn of its secret."

At that time, I turned my attention to Diya. Nadir remained silent, stunned. The boy gazed up at me, his upturned face streaked with tears. When I knelt and handed him the music box, he threw himself into my arms, weeping fiercely. For several minutes, I spoke soothingly to the child, stroking his hair and rocking him gently back and forth as he clung to my shirt and cradled the automaton in his own arms. Soon I began to sing to him. As the soft melody infolded the child, he became silent, and his tears gradually abated. When my song had come it its end, I pulled carefully away.

"D-does it still work?" the boy stammered, gazing fretfully at his new, beloved toy.

"We shall see."

I set the little monkey on a small wicker table and clapped my hands. The music box gave a few sputtering notes and then went silent. Fresh tears formed in the eyes of my young companion.

"Oh no…. No… it doesn't work. My monkey is broken." Diya sniffled as he grasped the box once more.

"I will fix it for you, Diya," I told him, taking the figure from his grasp. "You'd better be getting back to your studies now. I will have your monkey back to you as soon as I have repaired the damages. Can you be a brave boy and do your school work now?" Diya nodded, and I forced a smile. "Good. I promise that the monkey will be playing again by the time that you have finished your lessons."

Nodding happily, Diya limped back toward the house. He hobbled through the doorway without so much as a glance at his father. Nadir looked stricken. His actions had hurt Diya, and he had also broken his son's trust. Now was plainly no time to speak with him on the matter of the boy's health. First I would allow him to renew the trust that he had cut off.

"Go at speak with him, Daroga." Although Nadir turned to look at me, I could see that his focus was not on my eyes. He was staring past me into the garden. "Diya needs to hear that you are sorry for your actions," I told him. "Tell him why you shook the toy, and tell him that you were wrong to do it. He will understand, just as I do. We can have our discussion later. It will wait. I am returning to my room. Now go and make amends with your son."

He closed his eyes, letting out a sorrowful sigh and muttering some sort of prayer. Then, Nadir turned to go, stopping only briefly in the doorway to look back at me. Once Nadir had disappeared back into the house, I made my way back up to the guestroom. Little harm was done to the monkey music box, and in less than an hour I had him running beautifully. When that work was finished, I slipped silently out of my room, laying the toy at Diya's usual stop at the dinner table. The remainder of my day was spent alone composing with my precious violin. The hours passed quickly that way. I sensed that Nadir and Diya needed several hours together without my interference. Their time alone apparently served its purpose, for they both seemed happy enough when I was called to the evening meal. Diya was delighted to have his monkey back and Nadir no longer seemed suspicious of the toy.

The rest of the evening passed without event. And when the boy had gone to sleep, Nadir made no further inquiry about the mechanism that had so puzzled him before. I hardly expected him to. The illusion of my creation would remain a mystery to him and all others.


	7. Requiem

A/N: I am so sorry that it took me so long to write this chapter. It's a short one, but at least it's up. My dad has been nagging me to work on scholarship papers, I've been working a lot on Together Forever, and my other stories have kind of gone on the back burner for a while. But now I'm back to this one! My co-author and I are having a bit of a brain freeze on the other one. : ( Anyway, hope you guys like my new chapter even though it's brief. I will try my best to be better at updating quickly from now on.

**Part II: Nadir **

Chapter Seven

Requiem

I arose early the following morning, fighting my way out of a troubled sleep. Concern for my boy's health way heavily upon my mind. I told myself a thousand times that there was no cause for such anxiety. It was only a nightmare. Diya would be fine. Erik would see to that. For all of his peculiarities, I was certain that the dark stranger would be the answer to my prayers. Still, sleeping would be futile now. My thoughts were much too befuddled to attempt going back to bed. I would take a walk in the garden and wait for Erik to awake. Once the magician had examined my boy, my fears would be put at rest.

I had great confidence in this young foreigner. From what little I knew of him, his wisdom far exceeded his twenty years of age. Granted, at times he frightened me. There was a strange, coldness about the stare of those abnormally colored eyes, yet at other times they glowed warmly, calmingly… almost hypnotically. Nonetheless, he was certainly good with Diya. Although his experience with children had to be limited to say the least, the cloaked man could coax the boy to do anything that he wished for him to do. The child was willing, pliable clay in the potter's expert hands. That fact alarmed me as well. One whispered word in that velvety voice, one glance from those burning yellow eyes could compel or forbid any action on earth. The graceful majesty of his powerful voice, which Erik exercised liberally, was not limited to the manipulation of my son; he had used it on me as well, he had used it on that girl in the inn, and I was certain that he would not stop until all of Persia was under the influence of its sweet intoxication. He could rule us all, and I think he knew it. That thought was the most unnerving of all.

Hours passed as I wandered alone among the lush vegetation, thinking of numerous topics. I thought of the unbelievable bond that seemed to be growing between Erik and my son. The mask did not even seem to bother him, and I had never heard him speak of asking Erik to remove it. Two days and the boy practically accepted him as an elder brother. Erik seemed more than glad to soak up the child's attention. At times, I wanted to march between them and tell him to stay away from my poor boy. Diya would be heart broken when it was time for Erik to go to court, and I loathed the thought of his near worship of a man who seemed so innately malevolent. However, the elated light in Erik's eyes always halted my endeavor to separate him from his new friend. He seemed genuinely happy whenever he was with my boy, as if he were truly contented for the first time in his life. His face had surely denied him friendship in the past, and I could not take that from him now.

From there my thoughts trailed from what little I knew of Erik's past to what I hoped would be his future. I would help him to learn the ways of our people and the rules of the court. He would make a fine entertainer for the little Sultana, and if he pleased the child—as I was certain he would—perhaps he could even have some influence with the Shah. This was the beginning of a new life for him, a life that I hoped would be far superior to the past. However, as usual concerning Erik, I was mistaken.

My mind wandered on to the meeting that Erik and I would have with the Shah upon our arrival at the Mazenderan court. In a short time, I came to the far edge of the garden. Slowly, I entered the small forest that stood before me. Horrifying images flashed through my mind, forcing me onward with increasingly rapid steps. I had to go to that spot, to see that it was nothing but a dream. Although I attempted to keep my mind on matters of business of the court, I could not seem to push away the terrible dreams that had clouded my mind as I slept that night.

_I dreamt of my child. He was sitting on the floor with his monkey music box, watching keenly as the little creature played his song and then clapping for him to play again and again. But the boy in my dreams was not the Diya whom I knew. He was much smaller, thinner, and weaker. His feeble little arms seemed barely able to go to the exertion of applause. The illness was eating at his bones and at his eyes. The two orbs, once a healthy brown, were now glazed over, pallid and seemingly sightless. Every part of him seemed changed. It was difficult to recognize him as the same happy, laughing young boy that I knew as my own son._

_My heart broke and bled painfully at the sight. I stepped toward him, but I could not seem to enter the warmly lit room. Instead, my feet touched upon the slick surface of a kind of trap door, and I was sent spiraling downward. I was falling helplessly, my arms and legs flaying, my fingers grasping out for anything to take hold upon. At last I landed with a thud on solid ground. Brushing the dust from my garments, I stood to my feet. I glanced to my right and then to my left for any sign of where I was. Then recognition came to me I stood in the small grove of trees behind our garden. My eyes came to rest upon the familiar building, a small one containing a table and a golden urn. And then my gaze was drawn to some motion a few feet away._

_There before me stood a black clad figure. A long hood covered his entire face, and only his skeletal hands could be seen moving from the depths of his spectral apparel. One of those hands moved to cross himself in the manner of a Roman Catholic infidel. Then the wraith laid both of his hands upon the body that lay before him in an open casket. The lifeless body of Diya._

_Instantly, I thrust myself forward, screaming out in rage. "There is no God but Allah!" I cried. "And Muhammad is his Prophet!" The ghostly figure appeared not to hear my cries. He continued with his task of burial. And then I heard it. Erik was singing. I could hear his voice drifting through the air, blending with the soft playing of a violin in a mournful wail of song, a strange setting of the familiar Latin text which those of his faith call the Requiem. Their mass of death. Gradually the whole scene faded away in to blackness, impermeable darkness, void of shape or color or sound except for the cyclical playing of that soft, haunting melody._


End file.
